Awake and Alive
by NeverJust
Summary: "Best friends forever, right, Craig?" Tweek said in a broken voice. "Forever?" Craig swallowed hard and took the bloody hand in his. "Forever." He promised. Slow building Zombie!Creek
1. The Crash

_**AN; She's baaaaaaack!**_

_**I'm back, yes I'm back, betcha know it feels good to be back~**_

_**Back in black, yes I'm in black!**_

_**This is actually a total reboot of one of the first stories I ever wrote. It sucked balls, but it was an interesting concept so I'm going to try again.**_

_**Here we go!**_

_They giggled, drunk off wine coolers and each other. "I-I can't believe we're do-doing this!" Tweek snorted, face flushed red._

_Craig nudged him with his shoulder. "BFFLs do everything together!" He swore. "I got you drunk and with God as my witness, in a few days I'll get you driving!"_

_"Try your best!" Tweek said._

_"It's my duty as your BFFL!"_

_"To BFFLS!" His words were starting to slur together as he raised his glass._

_"Whoo!" _

_They clinked glasses and drank deeply._

Tweek drove slowly, carefully. The music was turned down, the normally loud voice of Rihanna turned down to a low hum. Craig had only recently convinced him to get a license and driving still freaked him out a bit. He turned on his headlights, noticing that the sun had begun to dip and the moon had begun to rise. The sky turned a pretty shade of orange and blue. He shivered and cranked up the heater.

He was almost home.

He licked his lips, craving the still warm coffee sitting companionably in his cupholder. His hand reached out tentatively then slammed back to ten-and-two.

_Shit, shit, SHIT! Is it ten-and-two or two-and-ten? Jesus Christ! Ugh, focus, Tweak, focus. You can do this. You're seventeen years old for God's sake, you can drive a fucking car._

He turned up the radio and reached for his coffee, taking a hesitant sip. He smiled.

_Normal, happy teenager driving home from their part-time job. Nothing odd, nothing unusual. Just normal teenage behavior. Normal, happy. Normal, normal, normal._

He could do this. Just like riding a bike. Except he couldn't do that either.

Shit.

Tweek frowned as a car sped by him. The speed limit was forty, right? He slowed down as another passed him, one of the passengers hanging half-way out the car, the music blasting from the opened windows.

They were probably coming from Red's party.

He had been invited, but declined. Geometry was really kicking his ass lately. Craig had offered to stay with him but he was a seventeen year old _happynormalhappyHAPPY _and could stay home by himself.

Tweek turned off the radio and drove a bit slower. His heart beat dully in the back of his throat and he squeaked as another car roared past him, swerving through the lanes.

_Jesus Christ, this was just like that scene from Tears of a Tiger! Except he's not laughing. This isn't funny. This isn't funny, this isn't-_

His phone rang. He jumped in his seat and reached for it. It was just out of reach.

Should he go for it?

_It might be terribly important._

He bit his lip and scooted over. His fingers brushed it, and he grinned shakily in triumph, closing his hand around it. He checked the caller ID and smiled wider.

Craig.

If the idiot needed a ride home then, well, he had another thing co-

_"There's another one!"_

_"Get the jaws!"_

_"Keep back, keep back! We cannot disclose any information at this time. Sir, youi cannot cross the tape. Keep back!"_

_"Jesus Christ, is that Martha?!"_

_"I just saw her at the party!"_

_"Holy fuck, it's Tweek!" _

_"Where's Craig? Somebody call Craig! Somebody call his parents!"_

_"I have his dad's number!"_

_"Hang on, kid, you're gonna be fine. Tweek, is it? My name's Gabriel. You're going to be fine."_

_"Ah...huh, huh...I...urk."_

_"You're gonna be fine, Tweek. Keep breathing. That's good."_

"Shelly! Girl, you cannot be thinkin' of drivin' home! You're fucking wasted! Let me find someone to-"

"Leave me the fuck alone, Sam!" She slurred. "I'm fine. I gotta get home before my turd parents do." She staggered to her car.

Sam stared after her, concerned as two more people clambered into the truck. She should do something to stop them. She really should, they were way too drunk to drive...but this was her first high school party and Bradley was going to be back in a minute to dance with her. Not to mention Shelly would not appreciate her efforts. She should take her keys away, at least. She stepped forward, hand hovering in the air.

"Sammy!" Bradley tossed his arms over hers and dragged her through the doorway. "They're playing our song, babe! Let's dance, yeah?" He ground against her and she giggled nervously.

"Yeah."

He followed her gaze over his shoulder and nudged her playfully. "Don't worry about them." He hummed into her cheek. "Shelly is, like, _the _best drunk driver there is." He kissed her forehead sloppily.

"What? Oh, I wasn't even worried." She lied. Sam closed the door behind her as Shelly sped off.

Craig lounged on the filthy couch, watching the blacklights twinkle above him, wishing he had worn more white. At least his wristbands glowed eerily. Shoving his way through the crowd, Clyde jokingly collapsed on his stomach, holding two red solo cups filled to the brim with only God knows what.

"Bottle sip, bottle guzzle!" He toasted, handing his friend one. Craig caught the straw with his teeth and drank deeply. It tasted like sweat socks and freedom. "So the big 1 8 comin' up soon." He said. "Got any plans?"

"Get wasted, get my own place."

"Hey, you find somewhere that isn't completely shitty and call us roomies! Unless, of course, Tweak already has the honor."

"We're just friends, dick!" He protested.

"Gay friends." Clyde snorted into his cup. "Don't even front, broham, I saw you sitting here with your little phone held to your little ear, waiting for him to call you back like a little girl. _Tweak, oh Tweak, where for art thou, Tweak?_" He said in a high-pitched voice.

"It's called being a good friend, Clyde, you great bag of dicks!" He pulled out his phone. "Tweek always answers, always."

"Maybe the underpants gnomes took his phone." He snickered. "I thought this was a party. Get drunk, get chicks, do drugs. YOLO, bro, YOLO."

"Not me, man, I believe in IBYF."

"IBFY? That a type of sex?"

"I'll be young forever, dude. I'll be young forever."

"Classy."

"As fuck."

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna do some trippin'...in the general direction of balls."

Craig noted his friends pupils. "What did you take?"

"Some reds, some blues. Maybe a few greens."

"Nice."

Craig's phone rang. He sat up abruptly, pushing Clyde to the floor.

"Ooof!"

He scowled.

Kyle.

What did he want?

"Talk to me." He answered over the steady thrum of deadmau5. He held the phone closer to his ear.

Fucking mau5.

"What?" He shouted.

"Craig...Tweek...his...number...parents...Tweek...Jesus it's..."

"What?" He demanded. "What about Tweek?" He crossed the crowded foyer of the house and was ouside in a few steps. Thank God for long legs. He reached into his pocket for his keys as the boy on the other line continued to cry.

Kyle sobbed. "There's so much...Jesus, man...it's crazy...we have to call his parents...!"

"Stay with me, Jewboy." Craig growled, revving the engine until it roared like an angry animal. "What's with Tweek? Why do you need his parents' number?"

More sobbing.

He torn down the road, a few loitering drunkards stumbling out of the way. The few sips of beer made him feel light-headed and nervous. He spat out the window.

"There's been an accident." Kyle said brokenly. "By Stark's Pond. It's Tweek and a few others. We...we...n-need to call his mom. Jesus, there's so much blood."

The world stopped spinning.

_"We're losing him!"_

_"God dammnit!"_

_"Don't die on me yet, kid."_

_"Get the paddles."_

_"Clear!"_

_"Nothing!"_

_"Higher! Clear!"_

_"...He's gone."_

_"Call it."_

_"Time of death 8:53 p.m."_

Stan flipped through his magazine. He glanced impatiently at his watch. Kyle was supposed to be by an hour ago to tell him how the party had went.

He scratched his stomach absentmindedly. He'd bet anything it was awesome. Kyle probably didn't want to leave. Stupid History, stupid report cards, stupid groundings. Stan sighed deepy, gazing out the window. How long ago had it been that Shelly had stopped by his door hours ago just to rub it in and flip him off before leaving herself? It couldn't have been more than a couple of hours.

She wasn't even supposed to go, she had a big test tomorrow. She had just snuck out like it was nothing. Like she always did. Not that his parents noticed.

Not that they ever did.

The front door slammed. He checked his watch.

9:08

He stood up, stretched and burped. Tossing his magazine to the side, he hurried down the hall to the stairs. "Kyle, you dumbass!" He called. "You're late!" He paused at the top of the stairs. "Dad?"

Randy swayed in the doorway. "Stan," He said oddly. "Stan..."

"Dad?"

"I have to pack your mother and I's overnight bag, go to the car. I'll be there in a sec."

"Is everything okay, Dad?"

"Stanley just do as I say."

"A-alright." Grabbing his coat and phone from his room, he passed his dad again in the hall. His eyes were half-lidded and emotionless. Stan swallowed hard and looked down.

"Stan."

"Dad?"

"You're driving."

"Yeah. Okay." He was really starting to freak out now. His dad loved his Mustang almost as much as he loved him.

Randy got into the passenger seat quietly. His hands shook as he lit a cigarette. Stan thought he had quit last year. "Drive."

"Where to?" He hoped his dad wasn't just drunk and hallucinating again.

Randy took a deep drag and exhaled, the smoke curling around his face like a mask. "Hell's Pass."

"What?" He exclaimed. "Who's hurt?" Deep down, he already knew.

"Shelly." Another exhale. "There...there was an accident. The police say she was drunk." The rest of the ride was dead quiet, Stan wondering what to say as his dad quietly cried next to him.

The waiting room was packed when they got there. Teens and parents alike filled up the chairs, red-eyed and snotty nosed, some still in their pajamas from when they first heard the news. They had barely passed through the doors when Randy was pushed against a wall.

"This is your fault." Mr. Tweak said with quiet anger. He was never one to shout. His hands shook as they clung to the other man's denim coat. Mrs. Tweak sobbed from her chair. "This is all your fault." Each word was punctuated with a hard shake. Stan noticed everyone in the room staring at them accusingly. "My boy's dead because of your daughter. Dead, do you hear me? Dead!"

It felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out.

"Dad?" Stan floundered, feeling eight years old again. "What did she do? _What did she do?"_

Randy sobbed.

He looked around for a friendly face, or at least one that didn't look like they'd be glad to see him dead. His mother sat stone-faced in the corner, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Stan sat next to her, taking one thin, cold hand in his, taking the time to examine her quietly. Spiderwebs of wrinkles marked her face and her normally pristine brown bob was dissheveled and threaded with grey. "Mom?"

She sighed deeply. "Shelly's going to be fine. The doctors are keeping her overnight for observation."

"And...Tweek?"

Sharon pursed her lips. "I don't know, baby. We just have to...to..." She sighed. "I just don't know. We spoiled her. This is just as much our fault as it is Shelly's."

"Mom, it isn't your fault." He soothed.

"It is." Fresh tears began to run down her cheeks. "We let her get away with everything and now...Jesus, poor Stephanie."

If Mrs. Tweak heard them, she didn't acknowledge it. Her hands were a blur of knitting needles and thread. She seemed to have aged twenty years since the last time he saw her.

Suddenly, it was too much. The sadness and anger in the room was practically suffocating him. "I'm gonna go outside for a while." Stan murmured. His mother smiled understandingly.

"Go ahead, I'll stay here and watch after your father."

The rush of cold air was a welcome relief. He breathed in deeply, leaning against the wall next to the door.

"Hey."

He jumped.

Craig crouched next to him, a cigarette dangling from his limp fingers. He was covered in a fine dusting of snow. "Oh hey." He shuffled closer awkwardly. "What are you doing out here?"

Craig snorted and raised an eyebrow. "Waiting. Just like you are. Any more stupid questions?"

"Ah...no. I'm fine." He dropped to his haunches and placed a hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "How are you taking it?"

"Taking what? Tweek got in a fender bender. No big deal. It happens." Craig flicked the ashes into the snow.

Stan swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in the back of his throat. "Fender bender? Craig, oh..."

_"My boy's dead thanks to your daughter! Dead, do you hear me? Dead!"_

"What's that sound for? Oh?"

"Craig, Tweek's..."

"Gonna be out any minute." He said plainly. "Tweek hates hospitals."

"Craig, Tweek's not gonna be out any time soon." Craig looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Oh? Why not?"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" He looked at him searchingly. "Sorry for _what, _Marsh?" He demanded. Craig stood to his full height. Stan stared at him like a man would stare at the sun.

"He's gone."

"No, no, no. You're lying. You're _lying!" _He backed away, stumbling over his feet. "Fuck you Marsh! Fuck you! Tweek's fine! He's gonna be fine!" Craig stomped away, growling under his breath.

"Craig-"

"That's fucked up, Marsh." He spat accusingly without turning around. "Even for you."

Stan watched as the other boy ran away, feeling cold and sick inside.

**AN; I'll try to make it longer next time but for now this seems as good of a start as any. What do you guys think? Excuse me for any inaccuracies. I am an ignorant fanfiction writer without spellcheck.**

**Also I don't know Mrs. Tweak's name and Google isn't helping. I thought Stephanie seemed as good of a name for her as any.**


	2. New Beginnings

The next day at school was dead quiet. The air was thick enough to be cut with a knife, teachers standing awkwardly to the side as their students cried. Those that attempted to continue on as normal were met with blank and cold stares.

It was hard to tell who was worse off; Craig or Stan.

Craig wandered the halls looking lost until either Token or Clyde took him by the arm and led him to class. Stan slid through the crowds of people, trying to avoid their accusing gazes. He mumbled constantly under his breath...

"...it's not my fault...it isn't...please...someone...please...believe me."

The bell rang for lunch. People filed out to the cafeteria, pushing and shoving each other in a desperate attempt to be first in line for days old pizza and stale ham and cheese sandwiches. Stan made his way to the pavilion. It was always empty, people preferring to stay in the warm outdoors than the cold snow covered concrete. He sat down and breathed out, watching his breath trickle out of his mouth in white clouds like the ghosts of terrible secrets.

"Hello friend!" Stan looked up. A boy stood in front of him. He was dressed very lightly for this time of year. It couldn't have been more than forty degrees out yet he wore shorts and button-up shirt. Despite the freezing cold and fast winds his skin remained pale white and smooth, neither a red blush or goosebump to be found.

"You're in the wrong campus, kid." Stan said dully. "Elementary is down the street."

The boy giggled, a soft innocent childlike sound that set Stan's hair on edge. He laughed as if a funnier joke-that he was at the wrong school!-had never been told. "Oh no!" He said. "I'm not here for school! I'm here for you!"

"For me?"

The boy sat himself down next to Stan. His skin was ice cold and seemed to feed off the warmth radiating from him. "You seemed so sad. I hate it when people are sad." He played idly with Stan's fingers.

"I just lost a good friend of mine recently." Stan didn't mention how it was his sister's fault that Tween was dead or how odd it felt to call a boy he hadn't spoken more than forty words to in the last six years a friend.

"I've found prayer really helps me in times of need. Have you tried praying really, really hard?" His smile was both sweet and predatory.

"Yes, I've tried praying really, really hard but in this case I don't think it's going to help."

"Then maybe you've been praying to the wrong person?"

Stan must have heard him wrong. It was the only explanation. "What?"

"Stan what would I tell you if there was someone who was looking out for you? Someone who cared about you very much? Someone that cared about you very much. Someone who wasn't God."

"I'd say you're full of shit."

"That's the bad thing about being a good guy." The boy mused, all traces of sweetness gone from his smile. "You have all these rules to follow. Don't interfere in human lives, don't bend the rules. I have been sent here to tell you Stan that someone has been watching you. Someone has seen how you have suffered and someone is telling you that they are willing to bend the rules. Think about it Stan. How many times have people needed a miracle and He hasn't stepped up."

"How many times have you stepped up?" Stan challenged.

"As many times as we've been asked. We can't do anything without a notarized request and a please." He smiled his big-fucking-I'm-at-the-wrong-school-haha joke smile again. "So, tell me Stan, what's it going to be? Fame? Money? Power? Women? Men? How about a normal family? In a nice normal town maybe? Go on, all you have to do is say the word."

He musters a lame joke. "I thought you said I needed it notarized."

The boy smiles. "I thought I said we tend to bend the rules?"

"What's the catch? For anything I want in the world there must be one."

"Nope. All you have to do is say please. No selling of souls, no sacrificing virgins. Just one rule free wish. And make it fast. I have places to be."

"Why me?" Stan asked. "Out of all the people in this world who need a miracle, why me?"

"Why not?" He responded simply.

"Bring him back then. If you're so all powerful that the rules don't apply, bring him back."

"Why do you care so much?" The bright blue eyes of the boy seemed to pierce his very soul. "You don't know Tweek. You haven't spoken to him in years. Why are you wasting your wish on him?"

He paused to think about it before picking out his words slowly, carefully. "When I was little I broke a vase. My mom was really upset. I think her sister gave it to her before she died. My dad took all the pieces and sat me down in front of them. Everyday for two weeks I went straight to my room and tried to put everything back together. "If you break something," my dad said, "then you fix it." I have to fix this. For me, for Tweek, for Craig, for Shelly. For everybody."

"Alright, alright. I get it. You have a hero complex. Who am I to judge?" He stands up. Stan glances at his watch. There's still half an hour to the bell. "You'll get your wish just like I promised. But first...I have a question. What happened to your mother's vase?"

Stan's stony silence was answer enough and he giggled. "That's what I thought."

Tweek opened his eyes and screamed. He shakingly reached out into the darkness and screamed again as his fingers met the soft, curved roof of his coffin. He gasped for air and felt around. "Oh God, oh God, oh God." He panted. His left arm refused to move and his chest felt odd. His right hand fluttered up and down his body like a frightened butterfly. He bit down on his tongue hard to prevent more screaming. His arm was bent at an unnatural angle and if he preserve down hard enough on his chest he could feel his fingers slip through what he assumed was skin into flesh. He held his breath until he realized that he didn't need to breath. He squirmed unhappily in his wooden prison. He was naked save for a scratchy blanket.

He pawed at the ceiling and screamed again, hoping someone would hear him. Nothing. He pounded as hard as he could on the sides. They splintered open and dirt began to pour in. He didn't give himself time to be amazed as he slithered out his coffin. Dirt filled his mouth as he pushed away the dirt. The process took hours. Dig, squirm, spit out any dirt from his mouth, repeat..

When he finally broke through to the surface it was dark outside.

He laid across the soil of his own grave and panted, staring at his headstone dazedly. This could not be happening, he thought, things like this only happened in movies. Very, very scary, very, very unrealistic movies. He stared at his hand, skin looking yellow and sickly under the meager lights of the streetlamps. His right arm was normal looking but the left was burned and misshapen. He moaned in terror as he rolled onto his belly. "God help me!" He begged.

"Tsk tsk." Someone tutted. "Again with this God nonsense." Tweek squinted up at him.

"Who...?"

"Let's just say I'm a friend. Up you get." He hoisted Tweek to his feet with strength far beyond his years.

"Wow!"

"Let's get going. There's someone who misses you very much."

Craig slammed the door to his bedroom closed and locked it tight. The voices of his parents and whatever whore happened to be on the television at the time boomed through the thin wood. Ruby had done the same hours ago and even now he could hear her crappy music blasting down the hall. He flipped her off silently and collapsed onto Tweek's bed. The twitchy blond used to stay over so often that there was a nest of blankets and pillows that had become a permanent fixture in Craig's otherwise perfectly organized life. There was a similar nest for Craig in Tweek's room. He sniffed pensively. The blankets used to reek of coffee and Tweek but the smell had faded over the course of the hellish week.

Craig burrowed deeply into the blankets, staring blankly at the stacks of books that filled the empty space under his bed. Tweek had been terrified of the space for days and refused to stop bitching about it until he shoved a bunch of random crap under there to keep him quiet. It was odd to think about how something that pissed him off so much weeks ago would comfort him right now. He would give a lot to hear Tweek rant about the evils that lurked under his bed.

"Say hello now!"

Craig whirled around and fell back. Tweek stood in the middle of his room with a boy no older than nine holding his hand.

That was good. That was okay. That wasn't what scared him shitless.

It was the gaping hole in his best friend's chest that did it.

"Toodles!" The younger boy said, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

The blond collapsed to his knees without the support. Old instincts won out and Craig rushed forward to catch him. "Jesus, Tweek." He gasped. "What the hell did they do to you?"

Tweek clung to him with dirty fingers, whimpering softly at the back of his throat. He was deathly still and Craig almost believed that faith decided to fuck with him by bringing his best friend back to life only to have him die again in his arms. Tweek shifted slightly. "Craig..." He moaned. "Don't send me back. Please don't. I don't wanna go back. I wanna stay here with you. I don't wanna, I don't wanna go back."

"Go back where?" Craig asked, confused.

"Underground." He whispered, nuzzling himself under Craig's chin. He flinched. Tweek stiffened and pulled away slowly. "Craig?" He blinked. That was one thing that remained unchanged about Tweek. His eyes were the same clear green they'd always been. He focused on them. "You're not scared of me are you, Craig?" He bit his lip hard and the flesh tore quietly.

"No!" And he wasn't. He loved Tweek. Without him, his life was meaningless. The hellish weeks had showed him he'd take Tweek in whatever form he came in. If some higher power somewhere saw fit to return his best friend as a zombie then he would take him and run like a motherfucker.

"I missed you, Craig."

"I missed you too, Tweek."

Had his eyes always been so big? He pushed away the feeling of foreboding that swelled in his heart.

"Best friends forever, right, Craig?" Tweek said in a broken voice. "Forever?"

Craig swallowed hard and took the bloody hand in his. "Forever." He promised.

**AND THE PLOT BEGINS, MOTHAFUKAAAS! *cough cough* Sorry but if I didn't say it, I'd be wishing the entire story I had. I apologize that the update is late but the family computer died so I've had nowhere to update. I've resorted to begging my sister for use of her computer. I'm out my phone charger, television privileges, the last box of Twinkies I was planning on saving for my grandchildren, my headphones and I'm her chore-bitch for the next week. Please, if there is anyone who wouldn't mind getting PMs with chapters and posting them to my account I would be ever so grateful. Yes, I'm super naive for assuming you won't just delete everything but I'm desperate.**

**Also, I would like that every reviewer thank Sadie for the use of her computer. Without her Gods know when this chapter would be up. THANK YOU!**

PRAISE BE TO THE ALMIGHTY SADIE!

Seriously somebody help me I cannot do extra laundry for another two weeks.


	3. Free Oneshot! Read AN!

"I have to go to school now, Tweek." Craig said, zipping up his jacket. "You're going to have to stay here."

Tweek nodded dumbly, entranced by the television. He had never liked school. "Okay."

Craig pet his friend's head gently. Hair came out in clumps and he discretely brushed them onto the floor. "My mom doesn't leave for work until nine so you're gonna be stuck here awhile. Is that okay?"

"Yeah."

"Remember to stay away from the windows, okay? Dad comes back at-"

"One." He finished. Tweek took Craig's hand in his and squeezed-

-_until it cracked, pulling his friends warm, delicious smelling arm to his mouth, sinking his teeth into the pale, freckled skin. Warm blood filling his mouth and he ate and ate and ate and-_

"I'll be fine, Craig."

"Okay. I believe you. Are you hungry?"

_Starving. Please Craig, just a bite, a little bite. Please._

"Nope!" He popped the "p". "I'm fine."

_A little bite wouldn't hurt. Just one little..._

"Alright. I'll be back at four. The doors locked from the inside, so don't spaz out about being trapped forever. Goodbye." Craig slammed the door closed. Tweek rolled onto his back and examined the plain white bandages wrapped around his belly. The giant hole in his stomach had begun to smell. He stood on wobbly feet and staggered to the full length mirror. The large cut on his faith had been sloppily stitched closed with bright pink thread. He bared his teeth and snarled. He sighed, rubbing his temples. He didn't make a very convincing zombie.

He took a step back and held out his arms, moaning lowly.

The Red Racer pajamas didn't help.

Tweek shyly looked away from his reflection and took a deep breath. Just another thing he failed at, he supposed.

"Craig?" Tweek froze as Mrs. Tucker knocked at her son's door. "Haven't you left for school yet?" The TV quietly answered back. She sighed deeply. "Little shit, leaving his damn television on." She reached into her pocket and pulled out her key. Her son was a good kid, but like hell she was gonna let a teenage boy living under _her _roof own a heavy duty padlock without a spare key. Just as she suspected, the television was on full blast. "God, what the fuck is that smell?" She groaned, flipping the switch. Catherine Tucker shifted the basket of laundry to her other hip and began to pick up the scattered clothes. "When did we buy this blanket?" She wondered.

Tweek shifted uncomfortably from his place under the bed, peeking out between the cracks in the books. Mrs. Tucker stooped down close to pick up a sock.

"Oh my God!" He shrank back and quivered as she reached out for him. "I've been looking for this book." He sniffed the air. He could smell the sweet scent of her perfume, of baby powder, of her skin. He licked his lips and wriggled onto his side. Her fingers brushed the air inches away from his nose.

_Just one bite..._

He was so hungry, it was driving him insane. Craig never liked his mother much anyways. Catherine pulled away just as he snapped at her. He growled and she stood up. "Biggie?" She called out for the family dog. "Is that you, dumbass, what are you bitching about now?" The door slammed behind her. Tweek shimmied out the other side of the bed, clutching his unbeating heart.

He had almost, almost _eaten _Mrs. Tucker! God, she was like a second mother to him and he almost-

_bit her, like an animal._

He stared at the mirror again and suddenly his reflection seemed much less silly and much more foreboding.

"He's doing much better today." Clyde whispered. Token nodded discretely. Craig picked delicately at his lunch, a soft almost undistinguishable smile on his face.

"Hey, Craig. Howya feelin'?"

"Good. Better."

"Th-th-that's good." Jimmy piped in.

"Mhmm."

"Hey, look, here comes Stan." Token said. Craig stiffened.

"Hey." The teen said awkwardly. "Can I talk to you for a sec...alone?"

Craig stared deeply into his chicken by-product before standing. He seemed to tower over the other despite the three or four inch height difference. He followed his counterpart outside, wind whipping at his trenchcoat. "What do you want?" He asked plainly.

"How are you?" Stan asked. "Feel any different? Any changes?"

"What are you blathering about?" His heart pounded against his throat. What did he know? Who did he tell?

"I just wanted to know if there was anything you'd like to tell someone...it's not good to keep secrets." Craig lunged forward and pushed him against the wall.

"That's enough." He hissed. "I don't know what you're playing at but you better stop before you end up in a very bad place." He dropped him and turned, walking quickly back into the warmth of the room as Stan scrambled back up.

"Wait! Wait! Wait!"

"What the fuck was that?" Token asked.

"Nothing, just Marsh being an asshole." All traces of a good mood had vanished. They all flinched as he plunged his spork deep into his food, growling deeply at the back of his throat.

"Woah, bro, calm down." Clyde soothed, patting him gently on the back.

"Y-yeah. He-he's not wo-worth it." Jimmy said.

"I know that!" He snapped. The bell rang and they all stood.

"Look, just don't think about him. I'll talk to Kyle and make sure Stan knows not to mess with you again." Token said calmly.

"Yeah! Or else he'll have us to deal with." Clyde boasted, flexing his muscles. Craig cracked a smile and the tension melted from the air. "We got your back, Craig!"

"Yeah. I know you guys do."

_Tink. Tink. Tink. Tink._

Mr. Tweak looked up from his cup and smiled at Craig. "Hello there, son."

"Hello sir." They shook hands.

"How are you doing?"

"As well as I can be, sir. You?"

"I'm alive." He rubbed his forehead. "That must be something. What can I get for you?"

"Uh...black, with a shot of espresso."

His face fell. "An unusual combination."

Craig took his time to survey the store as Mr. Tweek began his order. It was empty, but would most likely be flooded with people in a few minutes or so. Craig had left school early to make sure he would be the first one there. He didn't want to deal with anymore questions from Stan. The small shop was warm and comfortable, with large cushiony chairs and pictures of its customers decorating the walls. Craig's own football sponsorship poster was hung right above the counter, along with Clyde and Token's.

All the pictures of Tweek had been removed.

"I'm back!" Mrs. Tweak poked her head around the corner. "Oh hello." She glanced at the clock and smiled. "A bit early to be out of school, isn't it?"

"Uh..."

She winked and laughed a high, tinkling laugh. "Well I won't tell anyone if you won't." Mr. Tweak handed Craig his coffee as Mrs. Tweak stared at him dreamily. She squeezed his cheeks fondly and he smiled. He had always loved Tweek's mom. He used to have the hugest crush on her when he was little.

"I always wanted a son." She sighed.

Wait, what the fuck?

WHAT...the...FUCK?

"Now, now, darling, Craig has to go do important high school things now."

"You had a-!"

"Goodbye now, Craig!"

"Bye-bye!"

He blinked in shock as he was pushed out the door. Tweek had always joked about his mother being unbalanced. At the time it had just seemed like a joke but that?

That was really fucking weird.

He hurried home, keeping his cup of coffee close to him. The wind had finally calmed down and the snow had stopped falling. The world was white, clean and beautiful. He let a silly, lovesick smile cross his face, taking just a moment to allow himself to be truly, completely happy. There was a spring in his step as he bounded into his house, drop kissed his little sister as she lay on the couch petting Smalls and made his way up the stairs. Then, just like everything else in his life, his mother had to go and ruin it.

"Craig!"

"Yeah, Ma?!" He screamed from the top of the stairs.

"Don't yell at me!"

Biggie barked furiously.

"Stop shouting!" Ruby yelled.

"Shut up Ruby!"

"Daaaaaaaaddy!"

"Everyone shut the fuck up!"

"Craig!"

"For fuck's sake, I'm coming!" Catherine tapped her foot furiously against the floor. She handed him an aerosol can.

"Do you know what this is?" She asked.

"Febreeze?"

"Yes! I want you to use it! Your room smells fucking disgusting!"

He narrowed his eyes. "You went into my room?"

"Yes!"

"No one is supposed to go into my room!"

"Shuuuuuuuut up!" Ruby moaned. "You're scaring Smalls!"

"You live under my roof, you obey my rules and my rules are use the fucking spray!" Mrs. Tucker snapped.

"Did you find anything?" Craig asked, clinging to the can.

"Besides a bunch of fucking dirty clothes and my book? No! What do you have up there?" She turned to stare at the ceiling. He could see the cogs turning in her head.

"Nothing! It's none of your business!"

"I'm your mother! Everything you do is my business!"

"I'll use the fucking spray, okay? Just don't go into my room anymore!" He fled without another word.

"Bet it's porn." Ruby snickered. Mrs. Tucker sighed.

"Shut up."

Craig turned the radio on and cranked it up to ten, not wanting his family to hear what was going on. "Tweek?" He called out. "I brought you coffee? Tweek?"

"Urgh..." Craig turned and paled.

The blonde lunged forward, snarling fiercely, teeth gnashing together loudly. His hair stuck up wildly and his eyes were glassy and bloodshot.

"Fuck! Tweek, pull it together!" Tweek moaned again, wobbling towards him. Craig was suddenly glad the accident had left Tweek with a broken leg, he never would have been able to outrun his trackstar friend without it. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He threw the cup of coffee desperately. Tweek froze and blinked as it splattered open over his face. He breathed in deeply and licked his lips.

"Mm, coffee...what the hell, Craig? What? Aiy!"

Craig hugged him tightly. "You can't stay here anymore." He murmured.

"What? Why? Where will I go?" Tweek asked desperately.

"I don't know but my mom's asking questions. Didn't you notice her walking in earlier?"

"I hid!" He protested.

_And tried to eat her..._

"Well next time she's not gonna just look around. And there are only so many places you can hide."

_Not to mention you just tried to kill me..._

"Okay, Craig. Whatever you think."

"We'll figure it our. Hey, are you hungry?"

The smell of hamburgers began to waft through the air.

"Starving. But I've got a weird request."

"What do you want now?" Mrs. Tucker asked angrily.

"I'm here to help you." Craig said. He rolled up his sleeves. "What do you need?"

"You can set-"

"I'll make the hamburgers while you go relax." He pushed his wide eyed mother out of the kitchen.

"Did Craig just offer to make dinner?" Ruby asked, shocked. She nodded dumbly. "Do...do you think he's going to poison us?"

"Right now," She huffed, sitting down on the couch, "I don't really give a fuck."

"Done! I'm not hungry!" Craig yelled over his shoulder.

"You were in there for thirty seconds!"

"I'm a fast cook!"

Tweek dug happily into his raw hamburger meat. It was cold from the freezer and missing the sweet smell of human blood but it curbed his appetite nicely. He ate quickly and viciously, digging his teeth into his own palms as he bit down. The taste of formaldyhyde stung his throat and he gagged before going back for more. Craig watched quietly.

Had his fingernails always been that long?

Sighing contently, Tweek licked his fingers. "That was good. Thank you."

"No problem." Craig tried to look away from his friend's eyes. They were large in his pale, drawn face and glittered strangely. A shiver ran down his back. "Now we have to find a place for you to stay." He paused. "I think I have an idea."

* * *

**Alright, readers, from here on out everything is up to you. **

**1. Should I bring more characters into this, or should I focus around Craig and Tweek?**

**2. Is Tweek going to continue deteriorating or can he survive off animals?**

**3. Is Stan going to be a major character in this?**

**Tell me what you think. I love new ideas. **

**The first person to tell me who/what Ruby's cat and the dog are named after gets a oneshot of their choosing. **

**This week is going to be hopefully filled with updates as my sister recovers from her stomach flu.**


	4. Pastures

**AN; YOU HAVE SPOKEN! TIME FOR A ZOMBIE ADVENTURE. HERE WE GOOOOOOOOOOO! WHO'S EXCITED? I'M EXCITED! DO YOU THINK THIS AN HAS TOO MANY CAPS?! I DON'T! CAPS ARE AWESOME BECAUSE IT MAKES ME LOOK CRAZY AND ANIMATED AND YELLING WHEN IN REALITY I'M JUST CALMLY SITTING IN MY BED DRINKING KOOL-AID. Well, that's enough of that then.**

**School starts on wednesday so this is going to be the last update for a while. Please don't hate me.**

Being a zombie sucked.

The movies made it look like so much fun. You get to run wild, scaring the crap out of everyone before eating them, no worries, no regrets. In real life you try to eat your best friend _once_ and suddenly you need to be tied to a bedpost 'for his safety'.

Pfft, safety.

Craig was just a kinky bastard.

The bastard.

And really, did he have to throw coffee in his face? That was a waste of perfectly good coffee.

Tweek huffed and settled on his haunches. He was starving. "I feel ridiculous." He pouted. "I'm not a dog. You can't just chain me up."

"Well get over it." Craig said simply, rubbing his friend's hair. "It's only temporary." Tweek snapped his teeth angrily. "I'm sooo scared." Craig teased, flicking him on the nose. "Look, we'll get you to the safe house and then you can roam as you please, okay? Just deal with it for a few more hours."

"...Alright."

Craig turned in for the night. He would be taking Tweek to the safe house tomorrow night. It was a Friday so hopefully his mother wouldn't get on his case about staying out late. He snuggled into his pillow, staring at the blond with half-lidded eyes. Tweek stared back. "Night, Tweek." He yawned.

He cracked a smile. "Good night, Craig." Tweek huffed as the dark haired boy fell into a deep slumber. "Finally, you jerk." He whispered. Tweek listened to his heartbeat slow, his friend beginning to snore softly. Tweek sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was too dark to see the time. It couldn't have been any later than ten though. Craig always fell asleep fast. Tweek pouted. He was so bored.

And hungry.

He was bored and hungry. Those were never a good combination with Tweek, even before he was a flesh eating monster. Honestly, Craig should have known better than to go to bed without feeding him. Tweek brought the chains holding him to the bedpost to his mouth and bit down. They were dollar-a-foot Home Depot name brand knock-offs and broke easily under his teeth. He stood and stretched, stumbling to the window. His broken leg seemed to be healing and he found moving around much easier. Tweek looked back at his friend and smiled fondly. Craig snored away, blissfully ignorant.

He dropped out the second story window quietly, landing in a crouch. He smiled, inhaling deeply. He could smell the rain on the horizon and underneath it something else. It was a person. They were close, too. He looked around suspiciously, sniffing. The wind toussled his hair. He took a step toward them before something else caught his attention.

_Blood._

He could smell everyone from miles around, could hear the dozens of heartbeats slow in sleep, blood gently pumping through their veins.

_Warm, tasty flesh that would put raw hamburger meat to shame. Hundreds of people living in this town, no one would notice a few...absences. Enough people in this town to keep him fed for years. Delicious, struggling against his teeth, hot, messy, like a cheeseburger. He was so hungry. _

He groaned and staggered onto the road, grateful for the cloak of night. Forget it, he had to get out of here before he went crazy! Tweek lumbered down the lonely path for a long while, hissing dangerously at any animals that passed him. Dogs barked loudly as he walked by, whining at the smell of death. Cats watched curiously, eyes bright and shimmering as birds took up a mournful chorus. Rain began to pour down, soaking his borrowed clothes. Craig would be furious if the colors ran. He almost turned back but was unwilling to end his walk. He couldn't be certain that if he went back now, with all those evil _wonderful _wrong _right right right _thoughts in his head that he would be able to keep himself from doing something he would regret later.

At least he was pretty far from town if the cravings did take control again. The buildings had slowly begun to disappear miles ago. He was in farm county now and there was nothing to see but pastures and farm animals.

Cows looked at him with lazy, drooping eyes. They smelled odd. Tweek wasn't sure how he was supposed to react. On the one hand, food. On the other, they smelled like grass and methane; nothing at all like the delicious scent humans gave off.

_Delicious warm flesh blood heart beat stop it stop it people are friends not food STOP._

But meat was meat, right?

He used to eat hamburgers and things like that before...

Before...

They began to back away as he clumsily hauled himself over the fence. "Here cow, cow, cow." He crooned, holding out his hand. He slowly walked towards an especially fat one. It pure white with large, innocent eyes. It mooed curiously, too young to know the dangers of man. "Here, cow, cow, cow!" Tweek licked his lips. He was so hungry. He bared his teeth in anticipation. It took a hesitant step back and he lunged. He sank his teeth into its shoulder, moaning happily. Warm meat filled his mouth, bloody and fresh. If he sniffed hard enough, really concentrated, he imagined he could smell human underneath it all, could hear its frantic moanings of terror. Then he couldn't hear anything, not even the frantic _moos_ of the other cows, over the dull roaring in his ears. She squirmed against him and he pinned her, growling as the cow kicked at his arm. It cracked and lay limp and useless at his side. Growing annoyed with the struggle, he finished her off, using his good arm as well as his teeth.

Tweek gorged, rain and wind wiping away the evidence of the deed. He licked his fingers and burped. His stomach was distended over the fabric of his grass stained pajama bottoms. He hadn't felt this full in weeks. The cow stared at him blankly, eyes wide and glazed. He paid it no mind as he stood up and touched his arm. The bone stuck out of his elbow. How would he explain this to Craig?

Licking his lips, he stumbled back to his sanctuary. This time, he didn't think of how wrong his hunger was. Or how much of a monster he looked like right now.

No, he only thought of when he'd get to do it again.

He climbed slowly, arm hanging limp against his side. Damn cows. Tweek slid back through the window and landed on the floor with a wet _'thud'. _Craig didn't stir as he settled back in for the night, keeping one eye on his friend. He sucked his tongue and thought of his next meal, the first gentle stabs of hunger beginning to sound in stomach.

_Soon._

* * *

"Kyle." Stan hissed. "Kyle. Wake up!"

"Urgh...Stan? What?" He rolled onto his side.

Stan bit his lip and shook his friend gently. "Kyle, wake up! Please! I need to talk to you!"

Kyle and Stan had been friends for most of their lives and the Jew could recognize the difference between Stan's just-want-to-talk-voice from the about-to-have-a-serious-mental-breakdown voice. He yawned and sat up, glancing at the clock blearily. "Dude...it's two o'clock in the morning! We have school tomorrow!"

"I have to talk to you."

"What is it?" He groaned. "Can't it wait until morning? I have enough trouble convincing my mom to let me stay over on school nights because she thinks we'll stay up all night fucking around. Don't prove her right." He shifted in his sleeping bag. Stan grabbed his hand, holding it tightly.

"Please." He pleaded. "It's important."

Kyle sighed. "Alright. Fine, you have five minutes to tell me what's so important before I go back to sleep."

"You have to promise to keep it a secret." He stared hard at their intertwined hands.

"Stan, I-"

"Promise, Kyle!"

"I promise! What is it?"

"I-I think I did something bad. Really bad." He whispered.

Kyle felt his heart skip a beat, suddenly feeling very awake and alert. They had always joked about what they'd do if they killed someone but those had been jokes. No, Stan wouldn't kill someone in cold blood. He wasn't like that. But what else would warrant such secrecy? Such terror? "Stan." He struggled to keep his voice from cracking. "Stan, what did you do?" Stan squeezed his eyes shut and hugged him, tightly. He breathed in the scent of his super best friend. It comforted him, as it always had. Kyle gripped back just as tightly.

"What would you do if I died?" He whispered.

"I..."

"I would go crazy. I would cry and throw things and probably never leave my room." He smiled a watery smile. "But you're stronger than me, smarter too. You'd be fine, wouldn't you? It's just me. I'm so scared of death. Of being alone forever." Stan sighed. "What would you give, Kyle, if someone promised they could bring me back? Everything?"

The Jew swallowed and leaned his head against Stan's collarbone. His cheek pressed against his chest. He could feel his heart beating and after a moment felt his own match it's partner's erratic pace. "Anything." He murmured back. "Anything they would take, I would give."

"I was so scared. So lonely. No one believed me when I said it wasn't my fault. They said if I had gone to the party, if I had called my parents' the second I knew she was going he'd still be here today. No one would help me. But then he came to me and promised he would come back normal. All I had to do was wish for it. I made myself believe it. That everything could go back to normal. Things always go back to normal, don't they? Just reset at the end of the week? But it didn't this time. It didn't. _He _didn't. I saw him, Kyle. I saw him. He's...he's a monster." Stan sobbed. "I didn't know. They lied. I don't know how to fix it. I just wanted to fix it. Craig wouldn't tell me anything. So I...and then I...I saw him...in the pastures. He attacked the cows like a wild animals, he ate them alive and all I did was stand there and-and-" He hiccuped.

"Shh, Stan," Kyle said, feeling something cold and dark grip his heart. "Stan, it's okay. Tell me, who did you see?" He knew the answer before it was spoken. It could only be one person.

"Tweek." He responded simply, staring up at him with cold, dead eyes. "I saw Tweek."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE; Damn it was hard reaching that 2,000 word limit this time around. Remember, the polls are still open. If you don't want to review, people have been PMing me! Feel free to revote if you like! So far I've got a lot of people for crazy!zombie!evil!Tweek and I got a lot of Stan fan's out there! I'll do my best to make you guys proud! *blows kisses* See you soon, hopefully!**


	5. Miserable and Stunning

Ralph Jenkins woke with the cawing of the rooster. His wife Mary smiled at him sleepily and rolled over, pulling the floral duvet farther up her bare shoulders. He kisses her smooth skin and inhales. She tastes like vanilla and smells like roses. "Get back to bed as soon as you can." She whispers. He nods, smiling.

He grabs his hat off the kitchen table and grabs a bucket from underneath the sink. He walks out the back porch and smiling. He had loved this farm ever since he was a boy and would forever be grateful to his father for leaving it to him. His and Mary's troubles were gone from here on out. He whistles for the cows as he walks into their pastures. He knew some people preferred to put them in barns but the nights were still warm and like his Papi said, free cows were happy cows. He jumps over the picket fence and whistles again.

They had gotten pretty rowdy last night, he hoped nothing bad had happened to them.

The bucket fell from his grasp. The cows were huddling in a far away corner of the field, mooing desperately as a bloodied lump limped against the fence, mimicking their cries. He would recognize that white fur anywhere.

"Stella!" He gasped, rushing towards his wife's favorite cow. He almost puked. Large holes were ripped into her sides, her neck was hanging in flaps and perhaps the worst part? Her kind brown eyes her eyes had been plucked out, leaving gaping black holes. "Oh, girly, what happened?" He mourned, rubbing her head. He didn't know how she survived but he'd have to get the gun. He couldn't leave her to suffer. Then he'd have to dump her body. It would kill Mary to see her like this.

He jogged quickly back into the house. He grabbed the gun and after a moment, picked up the house phone. He only knew one person who would be awake at this hour.

"He-heey?"

"Aw, Stuart, man are you drunk?" He groaned.

"Sure am. Why?"

"I need you to get someone out here to dump a cow for me."

"Marriage not working out? Ah know how dat feels." He slurred.

"What? No, a cow! An actual cow! I need to get rid of it!"

"So you and Mary are good?"

"What? Oh my God, yes! We're fine! Look can you get someone or not?"

"Sure, I'll send mah son Kevin! He loves doin' shit like this!"

"Great send him over soon!" He hung up and ran back outside. Stella had collapsed and began to spasm on the ground, mooing loudly. He leaned down to pet her. "It's okay, girl." He soothed. "You're gonna be-ahhhhh!"

She bit down hard on his hand, grinding her teeth. He screamed and yanked it as hard as he could, fumbling for his gun. He pulled the trigger and she dropped her head. He gasped, feeling dizzy as he looked at his hand. He dropped his gun and staggered into the house. "Mary!" He screamed. "Mary!" She came running down the stairs in all her naked glory, tits bouncing with her hair. He didn't give it a second thought.

"Ralphie!" She gasped. "What happened?"

"Just get the fucking first-aid kit, Mary!" He snarled, almost collapsing. He was so dizzy, could feel the room spinning and there was an odd noise pounding in his ears.

bump-badump-bump-bump-bump-badump-bump.

"Oh Ralphie!" Mary sobbed, returning with the first aid kit. "What did you do to yourself? What happened?" She sniffled as she stood in the doorway. "Ralphie? Why are you looking at me like that? Ralphie?"

* * *

Craig woke slowly as he always did, slowly blinking himself back in consciousness. Tweek stared at him from across the room. "Uh, good morning?" He said, sitting up.

"Morning."

"Were you up all night?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Feeling suddenly awkward under that intense gaze, Craig stood and began to get dressed. Tweek continued to stare throughout the process and only looked away when Craig stepped into the bathroom. "So today's Friday." He said, brushing his teeth. "I'll take you to the safe house later today." Silence was the only response. "Tweek?" He turned around and yelped. The blonde stood mere inches away from him, gnawing at his lip. "How did you get loose?" He stammered. "Tweek?"

"Craig." He said simply. Craig's eyes widened as his best friend leaned forward and kissed his lips together. After a moment he closed his eyes and relaxed. His lips were cold and he tasted terrible but it was Tweek he was kissing and that made it amazing. He wrapped his arms around the familiar slim waist and smiled.

"I love you." He whispered when they pulled away.

Tweek smiled back, seemingly back to normal. "I love you too."

Craig kissed his cheek gently, tasting iron and smelling rotting meat. "I'll be home as soon as school's over. Bear with me for one more day, alright?" He murmured. "Remember I love you."

"Okay, Craig. Don't forget me, okay?"

"How could I forget you?" He laughed.

"That is some of the most fucked up shit I have ever heard." Kenny commented. "And I listen to Skrillex."

"Just another dirty Jew lie." Cartman agreed, shoving a Cloud Cake* into his mouth.

"It's true," Stan insisted. "Tweek's a fucking zombie. I saw him last night." He turned to his super best friend. "You believe me right, Kyle?"

"You know I do." He soothed.

"How did this happen?" Kenny asked. Despite his slight disbelief, he knew better than to completely disregard the notion. Fucked up shit happened in South Park all the time, this wouldn't even be the first time something like this had happened. "You don't think someone's gotten into the Worcestershire sauce again?"

"I don't know but we have to do something." Stan said, frustrated. "We can't let this get out of hand."

"There he is." Kyle hissed. They craned their necks to look. Craig walked nonchalantly with Clyde, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He caught their eyes before he raised an eyebrow. They all looked away awkwardly save for Cartman, who was busy sucking whipped cream from his fourth snack cake.

"Tucker..." Stan began as they passed.

Craig pursed his lips. "Marsh."

"Clyde." Clyde giggled, pupils blown wide.

"Craig, you have to listen to me. We know-"

"If you know what's good for you, all of you, you're gonna drop the junior detectives act before you end up hurt or worse." Craig warned under his breath, dragging his stoned friend away.

"Craig..." Stan called weakly. The darker hair boy turned. "He's not the same person anymore."

"I know."

"You have to let him go."

"Never." He swore. "If you're gonna fight me on this then I'm ready, Marsh."

"This isn't going to end well...for anyone." Kyle pleaded.

"I don't care. He's worth it."

"You have to let go."

"Answer me this, Marsh, would you let him go? Or would you hang on like you're condemning me for?"

Stan swallowed at his dark eyed gaze.

Like a shark's.

"I..."

The bell rang.

He blinked and Craig disappeared like a ghost, Clyde left stumbling behind, looking like a lost child. "Craig?" He called out desperately as he was swallowed by the crowd. His voice called even as he was no longer visible. "Craig?"

Kyle placed his hand on Stan's shoulder. Kenny did the same. "Stan." The blond said gently. "You more about this than you're letting on, aren't you?"

"Yes." He said.

"You know how this happened."

"Yes."

"And you know what to do." Kyle added.

"No."

"So what are we gonna do? Wing it?"

Cartman slammed his locker shut and began to waddle away. "Do what ya want, I'm goin' ta' class."

"It's what we always do." Stan rubbed at his eyes. "Usually works alright."

"And we've faced zombies before." Kyle said, trying to keep upbeat about having to re-kill his zombie classmate. He had been there the first time. He had stood feet away from the wreckage, smelled the burning flesh and melting metal. He had seen them pull body after body from the twisted cars, like children's toys that had been casually tossed to the side. The group of onlookers had grown louder and more hysterical at each face. At Tweek's limp, broken body they had gone wild, screaming and sobbing.

Kyle had puked on Bebe's shoes as she held him tight to her ample chest. She shushed and soothed him like a baby.

They still couldn't look into each other's eyes.

"We'll follow him tonight and take care of it then." Kenny offered.

The tardy bell rang.

"Not tonight. He'll be expecting it. We need to wait." Kyle mumbled, staring at where his hands met Stan's flesh.

Patriotic hands, red fingers, white knuckles, blue veins.

Did Tweek's hands change color?

Could you see his veins?

He had liked Tweek, had liked his crooked, goofy smile and quick wit. He had been as his mother described, a _good boy._

_"Such a good boy, such a shame...Kyle, bubbie, never let me catching you drinking..."_

Tweek never drank. He sat at parties with a bottle of water he brought himself. Kyle drank. Stan drank. Craig drank. Kenny drank.

Not Tweek.

Because he was a good boy.

"Not long." Stan said.

"Not long." Kenny agreed.

"It's better we don't do this now, anyways." Kenny said as they began to walk to class. "My dumbass brother has the car anyway. Something about a cow."

* * *

Kevin took a swig of warm beer and spat out the window. The truck grumbled along the dirt road, spitting out dust and small rocks before coming to a jerky stop. He and two of his friends clambered out, jeering and cheering.

"Dayum." Louis said, staring at the massacred mess. "The fuck happened to that cow?"

"Yer mom." Kurtis grinned.

"Let's just get this done." Kevin said, wrapping his arms around the forelegs. Louis and Kurtis shrugged, bent down and grabbed one leg each.

"Shit fucking smells." Kurtis groaned, tossing it onto the bed.

Louis snickered. "Think if we stick around we'll get a peek at Mrs. Jenkins tits?"

"Nah, her husband's real protective. Heard he shoots on sight." Kevin grunted, opening the driver side. He finished his can and after a second thought, tossed it onto the grass.

"Fuck, let's get out of here then." Kurtis yelped.

They piled in. "What are we gonna do with this shit anyway?" Louis asked.

"Dump it."

"Where?"

"Dump."

Kurtis' eyes brightened. "Or we can have some fun."

"We're not dumping it on Tricia's lawn." Kevin said. "She and Amanda are real tight and I don't need her goin' to her about this."

"Nah, I'm over that bitch. I mean...let's dump it in the reservoir."

"The what?" Louis asked.

"Reservoir. Is' where we get water."

"Why the hell would we do that?" Kevin asked, disgusted.

"Why not? It's not like we bathe. And the only drink I need is liquid sunshine." He downed half a can of beer in a long, messy gulp. "Let's do it. It'll be funny, havin' everybody drink dead cow."

That was all it took to convince Kevin. "Let's do it!" He said.

Louis nodded, grinning. If his friends thought it was good, it must be good. "Yeah! Dead cow drink!"

They veered off the road, making a U-turn to the water treatment plant.

Kevin grinned as he drove but deep inside, something stirred as he looked at his bloody hands on the wheel. He wasn't dumb, just drunk. If he didn't have a six pack swishing around him maybe he would've noticed.

Something was very, very wrong.

* * *

***Cloud Cakes are pastries made by Little Debbie. They're essentially twinkies...they're exactly Twinkies. **


	6. Camping

**AN; Jesus, what is this chapter? I don't even know. If things were heated last chapter, shit's flaming on this one. I feel like I should bump up the rating just for the sheer amount of times I say "blood" I'd hate for it to get moderated just because I wasn't careful. What do you guys think? **

**P.S. More info at the bottom. **

Craig came home a flustered mess. He ran up the stairs and undid the new padlock on his door. Tweek peered at him from underneath his bed. "Let's go!" He snapped, running to his closet. He grabbed an oversized hoodie (Token's, that boy was going on 6'0 nowadays.) and tossed it to him. "We have to leave now."

Tweek crawled out, confused. "Alright." He slid into the soft material, yanked the hood up.

"We have five minutes before Mom gets home with Ruby. We have to move." Craig ushered him to the driveway like a shepherd with his sheep but the thing is,Tweek hates cars. He barely tolerated them before he died and now? Now he's terrified.

He dug in his heels and whimpered. "I don't want to!" He cried. Craig growled and hurled himself back into the house, returning later with a thick slab of meat. He tore at it with his teeth as they drove, eyes darting to the side cautiously. Craig attempted to hold his hand before his boyfriend's sharp bloody teeth almost sank into his forearm. He mostly kept to himself after that. Tweek licked his lips and made a soft noise. He always seemed much more amiable after finishing a meal. "Better?" Craig teased. Tweek glared and bared his teeth before his expression softened.

"Much."

"Good, because you just ate an entire month's worth of my allowance."

"I'm worth it."

"Yes you are." He leaned over and pecked the blond on the cheek. Tweek crooned and nuzzled back against him. Craig started to swerve as Tweek pressed against his arms, spiky hair blocking his view. "Tweek, stop I can't see."

"Nngh..."

"Tweek!" He shouted. "Quit it!" The other pulled away, hurt. Craig cursed as he pulled away from the edge of the road and back into his lane.

"I'm sorry." Tweek said, eyes wide. If he was capable of crying, he would be tearing up by now. Instead, he hiccuped out ugly little dry sobs and stared out the window.

Craig bit his lip and stared straight ahead. "Just don't do it again."

"I won't." He promised.

They drove in silence until Craig stopped the car. "Get out."

Tweek scrambled out, ready to kiss the ground in joy. He stretched and flung his arms out. He felt so glad not to be cooped up in Craig's room anymore. "Where are we?" He asked.

"Middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere." Craig grinned. "You'll be safe here."

Tweek suddenly felt very scared.

_Craig was going to leave him here? Alone? Did he do something_ _wrong?_

"I don't wanna stay here!" He whined. "It's cold and dark and scary!"

"You'll be fine! We used to camp out here all the time. I'll come visit everyday after school and we can go driving on the weekends." He placated, kissing both of his boyfriend's cold cheeks. "Please just for a while."

"How long is awhile?" Tweek sniffled.

"Until I graduate and can find us someplace to live."

"That's an entire year!" He shouted, aghast.

"You'll survive." Craig said firmly, taking a step back. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Craig, wait!"

The dark haired boy stared at him from the car window before starting the engine and driving off.

Tweek screamed in anger, turning to angrily stomp off the snow-covered road. He grabbed a tree with both hands and lifted it with a grunt, hurling it clear across the forest.

It had been softly drizzling when they had left hours ago but now it seemed to pour down in buckets.

Rain ran down his face and soaked into his clothes. He licked at it, moaned deeply. Although he could no longer feel anything like hot or cold the rain would certainly make him rot faster. He needed to find somewhere dry to stay and fast.

Tweek took cover under a thick cluster of trees as lightening and thunder both shook the world and lit up the sky. He twitched in reflex.

Snow crunched under his feet as he limped a crooked path through the forest.

"Fucking Craig...fucking zombiehood...fucking everything." He growled. But he knew he shouldn't be mad at Craig. It wasn't Craig's fault he was like this; he had been nothing less than perfect ever since Tweek came back. No there was only one person to blame.

The driver of the other car.

He had never bothered to track them down and to be honest he really never cared-

_he was dead and throwing a fit would only upset Craig_

-but now he felt like he couldn't go on without some form of revenge.

Not eating them per say

_although it hasn't been completely ruled out_

maybe just some good, old fashioned bursting through their window and moaning.

You know, zombie stuff.

If he didn't fall to pieces from all this goddamn rain first that is.

His stomach growled impatiently, reminding him that his last satisfying meal had been twenty four hours ago. The rain would make smelling or hearing anything very hard so hunting something was out of the question until it let up.

He growled again.

Seriously, fuck Craig.

Of all the places to dump him he chooses a run down old camping site? This piece of crap had been abandoned for years. The only reason they ever came was so Token, Clyde and Craig could get high in peace.

God, he-

"Hey, Rosa should we do something about Marcus?"

Oh, _yes_.

He licked his lips and began to walk towards the voice. He still couldn't smell or really hear anything but thank God for loud, rowdy teenagers.

There were only two and they both seemed high out of their minds with another one passed out on the forest floor, bottle held loosely in his hand.

The awake two giggled under the tarp they had set up as a tent.

His stomach growled again and Tweek felt his thoughts go fuzzy as it always did before he attacke-(ate)

Could he take them both at once? He was certainly strong enough but his damn leg kept him at a brisk walk.

_Why was he considering this? Whywhywhy? Humans aren't cows you don't eat people, Tweek Tweak. Stop thinking like that._

He stopped thinking.

They both screamed as he lunged although the girl attempted to leap to her feet he grabbed one throat in each hand and squeezed.

It took only seconds.

He ate the boy first; he smelled better. Tweek quickly discovered he preferred stomachs. They were delicious and easy for him to dig into even if he had to deal with all their juices gushing everywhere.

Humans were truly disgusting creatures.

_When had he stopped identifying as human?_

He had most of the girl for dessert but gagged when she began to cool. The rain had washed away any warmth left clinging to their skin.

It had been raining a lot the past couple of days, he noted.

The leftover boy burped and groaned. Vomit bubbled down the sides of his mouth and pooled around him. Tweek stared at him disdainfully. Like hell he was going to eat that.

Tweek shrugged and crawled under the tarp, sighing happily as he snuggled into a sleeping bag.

No rain, no rot.

Maybe he could get used to this after all.

* * *

Stan and Kyle were tangled up in each other, watching _Top Gear. _If it was anyone else, it would've been gay. But this was Stan and Kyle and these were manly cuddles. The redhead propped his head on top of a jutting shoulder blade. Stan was tense and his expression was dark. Kyle swallowed and squeezed.

"Ack!" He exclaimed, twisting in the vice grip. "What was that for?"

"I didn't like your expression."

"Well I don't like your mom but you don't see me going around squeezing the shit out of her!"

"Hey, man, not cool. My mom's like your mom."

It was true. He probably spent as much time around Mrs. Broflovski as he did his own mother. "Yeah, I know." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

Kyle leaned over and popped the tab on a can of Sprite. He guzzled it down in one gulp and came up for air, eyes wide. "No problem. I just wish you'd tell me what's bugging you." He paused and took a delicate sip. "Besides the whole classmate zombie thing."

"Yeah, cause that's such a little issue." Stan said sarcastically. "I mean, there's no danger of us all dying a horrible death and resurrection. Nah, I'm sure Zombie Tweek is gonna be totally cool about us killing him _again."_

"I don't know, man, he was pretty laidback when he was alive. I think if we ask nicely he'll be cool with it and if we promise to make sure he dies really cool. I think that'd help too."

"Kyle, I love you to death, bro, but that is probably the stupidest thing anyone has ever said ever." He laughed breathlessly.

"Made you laugh!" He crowed, holding his arms up in victory. "I am victorious! I, Kyle Broflovski, am the best friend in the history of the world!"

"Whatever!" He said, guffawing. "The second you can put up with being woken up at 5 o'clock on a Saturday to watch Dexter's Lab for 18 years, you can talk."

"Yeah, well, I've put up with your dumb, lovestruck ass for just as long, that has to count!"

"What? Lovestruck? Not even!"

"Oh, Wendy, I love you! Sooo much! Let's adopt Nigerian babies together and save the world and all its dolphins and whales and live together in harmony, harmony always!"

"Shut up!"

"Muah! Muah! Muah! Muah!"

"Oh my God someone kill me now!"

* * *

"Oh my God someone kill me now!" Ike held onto the toilet for dear life as he vomited what little remained in his stomach. He panted and closed his eyes. It felt like his body was determined to make him eject his eternal organs.

His mother stood in the doorway, a concerned expression on her matronly face. "Oh, bubbie." She said mournfully. "What can mommy do to make it better?"

"Nothing." He grunted, spitting out a mouthful of stomach acid. "Water, please."

"I'll bring you a bottle." Sheila crooned, turning away.

"And some food and a magazine. I think I'm going to be here awhile." Ike mumbled miserably.

"I don't know what's wrong with him, Gerry." She told her husband as she met him in the kitchen. She took care to grab a plastic cup with a handle. "He was feeling fine a few days ago. I'll have to call Sharon and have her check on Kyle. He shouldn't be around other people if he has what Ike has."

"I agree." Gerald kissed the top of her head. "I hope he feels better soon. It always makes me nervous when the children are ill."

"You and me both." She agreed, turning the faucet to fill the cup with water from the tap.

* * *

**Yeah, so sorry this was late. I really have no excuse except for I have no computer and all chapters are written when my sister feels generous enough to lend me hers. So, I feel like this chapter had some going ons in it but let me know what you think.**

**Also, more voting.**

**Couples, which ones you want? *holds open trench coat* Anyone want a Style?**

**Reviews fuel me! Feed the starving author! If I die, you get nothing! I leave everything to my cat! Review!**

**Please?**

**Also, feel free to PM me. I'm so lonely. D:**

**Love you all! **


	7. Track

**An: I just want to reiterate that while Tweek is sexy as a human, as a zombie he is pretty messed up. I just wanted to let you know. This isn't warm bodies. These bitches are bleeding everywhere and have friggin' holes in them. I just wanted to reiteeate that. Tweek wo n't be winning any Mr. Universe prices while he's like that. Please review!**

Craig woke up to screaming.

He rolled out of bed and hit the floor with a thud. He struggled up and ran out of his room. "What the hell?" He gasped.

Ruby and his mother cowered on the table. His mother held the family shotgun and swung it like a bat. Her face was set in a grim line. "Run, Craig!" She shouted.

His dad turned around.

_Oh, shit._

He almost fell down the stairs as his father advanced, gnashing his teeth. "Rght." He grunted. "Rrr."

"Like hell!" Craig's mom shouted, pulling the trigger. Mr. Tucker dropped to the ground. Ruby sobbed loudly.

"What's going on?" He asked.

Mrs. Tucker stepped down from the table. "I don't know." She said grimly. "Undead sons of bitches are everywhere." She peeked out the window. "Help me board up the house." They barred the windows and pushed Mr. Tucker out the door.

Craig felt like he was going to vomit. What was happening? He swallowed hard. Was Tweek behind this somehow?

His mother turned on the television as Ruby clutched tightly to Smalls. Biggie whimpered and scratched at the door. The Saturday morning cartoons still played. He wanted to sit down and watch Red Racer and forget that his father was dead.

The anchor and the big boobed bimbo next to him looked very scared. "Yet again South Park finds itself in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Scientists are being flown in from around the country to discuss a solution. For now, it is suggested citizens do not drink tap water and avoid going outside."

"Really? I thought now would be a great time for running around outside." His mother said sarcastically. "Fucking idiots, I swear."

"I have to go." Craig said. "I need to go check on Token and Clyde."

"Like shit you will." She snapped. "Go upstairs, stay downside but if you try to go outside in this mess I will put a bullet in your knee and tie you to the bed."

He stomped upstairs. As he stood in his window he considered jumping out. Then again he wasn't that fast and his mom was a good shot. She and Tweek always got along famously, discussing guns and survival plans for hours on end.

He watched Principal Victoria stumble down the street before multiple gunshots took her down. Catching his eye from across the street, Mrs. Stotch smiled sweetly and waved. He sighed. "Only in South Park."

His phone rang and he turned to answer it . Before he knew it he was on his back, surrounded by people. " You have two seconds to tell us where Tweek is." Kyle hissed.

He growled against the hand covering his mouth. "He's right, Craig." A familiar voice said. "The jig is up."

His eyes nearly popped out of his skull in surprise. Clyde?! "Rmph?" He shouted.

"We know he's back." Token added.

Craig turned his head defiantly. "Do you know what you've done, you selfish son of a bitch?!" Kyle shouted, slapping him."My brother is a flesh-eating monster because of you!"

"Don't blame him, Kyle." Stan said quietly. "It's just as much my fault as it is Craig's. Maybe even more."

"Don't be stupid, Stan." Kyle said. "What Shelly did was not what you did."

"It goes deeper than that, Kyle." He breathed out deeply. "I am the one who brought Tweek back to life."

The entire room froze.

"What?" Was the general consensus.

"I didn't know what it was! What I was doing!" He defended. "I swear to God!"

"It doesn't matter!" Kenny shouted. "What matters is fixing this mess!"

"Craig." Token said. "Where is Tweek?"

Craig sighed as the hand was removed. "You can't take him from me." He pursed his lips.

"Craig what if Ruby turned into a zombie? Your mom?" Clyde said. "Are you willing to sacrifice everyone for him?"

"Yes." He breathed. "A thousand times over."

"Then we have no choice." Kyle said. They tied him to the bedpost and gagged him. He struggled unhappily and shouted muttered curse words. His eyes promised retribution.

"We'll come and get you when its over." Clyde promised.

He lunged forward as best as he could and snarled.

The group dropped to the ground and made their way to Token's "Emergency Hummer".

"Think!

" Kenny encouraged."We're obviously not getting anything from him. Where would Craig take Tweek?"

Clyde sat up and snapped. "Tweek always said he wanted to go to McCreed's if a zombie apocalypse broke out."

"What's McCreed's?" Stan asked.

"It's an old camping ground we used to go to." Token finished.

"Where is it?"

"On the outskirts of town. Keep driving straight and then hang a left at Sixth Street."

"We don't have much time." Kyle said. "Go faster."

Kenny grinned. "Music to my ears! Hold onto your moobs, everybody." The car zoomed forward and then lurched as they ran over an unfortunate zombie. "Hey! It's Mrs. Florence! She was my piano teacher!" Kenny scowled. He backed up slowly and grinned as she screeched and fell silent. "Hated that bitch. C-Minor that!"

"Left! Go left!"

"Shit!" He swerved and knocked into a Jeep. "Fuck! Should I leave my information!"

"There's no time to be polite, you idiot!"

"How much longer?" Stan asked.

Token stared out the window. "Soon. Turn right."

* * *

"Here! Stop here!" The car screeched to a halt and they all got out, shaking the sleep from their previously cramped legs.. "It's just like I remember it." Clyde said nostalgically.

"A piece of shit?" Token joked. Stan allowed himself a smile as he got out of the car, grabbing his gun, a 16th birthday present from Uncle Jimbo. If anyone noticed his shaking hands they did not comment.

"Our piece of shit. I remember we used to come here almost every weekend and fuck around."

"I don't think there is a single tree you have not pissed on."

"Gross." Kenny mumbled.

"Don't fucking judge me. There aren't any bathrooms here!"

"Hey can we stop talking about Clyde's bladder and go ever the plan?" Stan cut in.

"Blow his fucking brains out and turn everyone back to normal." Kyle grunted.

Clyde swallowed hard. "Do we have to shoot him? There has to be another way."

"We don't have time for that!" Kyle snapped.

"We can't just shoot him! He's one of my best friends!" Clyde shouted. Token nodded.

"I'm positive Tweek didn't mean to do...whatever he did. If we just-"

"He is not a human being!" Kyle screamed. "What part of that don't you understand?!"

They stopped in the middle of the path, Kyle's cheeks matching the color of his hair while Clyde looked ready to cry. Stan looked away awkwardly, catching the soft shaking of a nearby bush. It burst and a blur shot into the open. "Watch out!" He screamed, pulling the trigger.

_Bang!_

Tweek snuggled into Clyde's arms, smiling. The other boy was crying in earnest now, tears falling freely as he squeezed his zombified friend. Token stood, stunned, before joining the small group.

"I missed you guys!" He squealed.

"We missed you too!" Clyde said, petting his head. He flinched when his fingers touched the newly made bullet wound. It was just a graze but it was still freaky seeing Tweek like this. His skin had turned a light shade of grey with his leg bent at an ugly angle and deep, coagulated cuts decorated his arms. His right eye was milky and glassy while the left was bright and twinkled merrily. Blood oozed slowly out of his new wound. The blond didn't seem to notice.

Kyle nodded at Stan and jerked his head in Tweek's direction. Stan bit his lip and called, "Tweek!"

He fired again when he turned around, blowing a fist sized hole into his thin chest. Tweek frowned. "Why did you do that?" He asked unhappily, swaying on his feet.

"Again!"

The next shot blew out the right side of Tweek's face. He wailed, clutching at it. "Stop it!"

"Why won't you die?"

Tweek sniffled, staring at them. "You didn't come here to say hi, did you?" He asked accusingly. "You came here to kill me! You're trying to kill me."

"I'm sorry, Tweek." Stan whispered. "But we can't let you hurt anyone anymore."

"I haven't hurt anyone!" He pulled his hand away from his head and flicked globs of grey matter onto the forest floor.

"Tell that to my brother." Kyle muttered.

"Your brother?"

"Almost everyone in town is a zombie, Tweek." Token said gently.

"I didn't do it! I haven't bitten anyone!" Tweek shouted..._i__n town._

_"_I'm sorry, Tweek." He whispered, raising his gun. Clyde and Token stood frozen in horror.

_Click._

"Put the gun down, Marsh." A cool, slightly nasally voice commanded.

"Craig!" Tweek gasped. His boyfriend nodded in acknowledgement. He stared at the group of impromptu zombie hunters from behind the shotgun, eyes narrowed. There were bruises around his mouth from the gag.

"Get behind me, Tweek." He said. Tweek obeyed. "Marsh, I thought I said to drop the gun."

"Craig-"

He fired a shot and reloaded with practiced skill. Kenny dropped to the ground.

"Oh my God, you killed Kenny!"

"Drop the fucking gun, Marsh!" He roared.

Stan dropped it. Clyde sobbed. Token took a step forward. "Make one more move and you're next, Black." Craig warned. "Now, me and Tweek are going to leave. We'll be out of this town in an hour and out of this state in a day. Try and follow us and I'll blow your motherfucking brains out. Got it?" He and Tweek disappeared among the trees.

"What do we do know?" Clyde asked hysterically.

"We need a new plan." Kyle responded. He knelt down by Kenny and shifted him into a sitting up position. "Shooting Tweek obviously isn't going to do anything."

"Didn't you hear the crazy bastard with the gun, Kyle?" Stan snapped. "We follow them, we're dead."

"We can't not follow them! There's an entire town full of people that need our help."

"Who, hey, whoa. Let's calm down." Token soothed. "Let's wait for Kenny to wake up. Then we'll think of our next step."

Clyde rested against Token. He stared ahead. "It was like he wasn't even Craig anymore." He mumbled. "Just a stranger with his face."

"What I want to know," Token said bluntly. "Is what Stan meant when he said he brought back Tweek to life."

Suddenly all eyes were on him. Stan stared at his hands. "I was outside one day," he began. "A few days after the accident when a blond kid in a flat cap came up to me and asked all these questions. He asked me if I had been praying hard. How someone other than God was watching over me and all I needed to do was say please." He looked up. "I said please and a few days later Tweek was back and attacking cows."

"Dude..." Kyle said. "You made a deal with fucking Satan."

"Jesus Christ!" Token exclaimed. "It's always you guys, isn't it? Screwing things up for everyone. Making fucking Satanic deals. Couldn't you just stay home and make a porno like regular teens? Jesus, I mean really. A deal with the Devil? Anything else you want to tell us while we're shaking my world views?"

Stan shrugged. "Satan's alright. Kind of a pussy. He and Kenny are pretty tight though so maybe he can convince him to go easy on us."

Token's eye twitched just as Kenny woke, gasping as though he had been underwater for a minute or two.

"I know how to fix this." He told everyone.

**Like or didn't like? What do you think is going to happen next? What do you think should happen? Review and let me know. Love you guys!**


	8. Reasons

**AN; so I went back and edited the last few chapters so they don't suck as goddamn much anymore (yay, I suppose?). We are getting near the end here people. It's this chapter, the next chapter to wrap everything up and then maybe MAYBE an epilogue. Also, I feel like for a zombie love story we haven't really focused much on zombies. What about you?**

**But don't worry, I plan to remedy that within the next few thousand words. **

**On with the chapter!**

Tweek stared at Craig silently as they drove. His shoulders quivered and his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. "What?" The human asked. "What is it?"

"You...almost shot...Token...for me." He said slowly. He was beginning to have trouble piecing words together, had a tougher and tougher time remembering _Craig-is-boyfriend-not food._

"They were going to kill you." He said. "I couldn't let that happen."

"They...can't. I am...not to die." He motioned to his torn and ruined body. "Remember?"

"I couldn't take a chance. We don't know what actually is keeping you alive and how long it'll last. We need to be careful. Now get ready to duck and stay low. We need to go through the town and find a place to hide for awhile and I don't want anyone to see you."

"Can't we...go?"

Craig laughed darkly, his eyes dull beneath the brim of his hat. "The CDC's set up a barrier around the town. No one can get in or out."

"It's that bad?"

"Baby, you have no idea." Tweek watched in horror as he saw the carnage that decorated his home.

Windows were broken and zombies stood dumbly in the streets. They could almost pass for normal people, save for their colorless skin and the tell-tale bite-marks decorating their exposed flesh. They growled but did not approach the car, a few of the braver ones trailing it. "How?" He asked. "How?"

"We don't know. That's what they're trying to figure out. I know you didn't have anything to do with it, don't worry." He stroked the blond's head softly. "I'll protect you."

Tweek felt the pulse in his hand and groaned. He was sooo hungry. At the same time, he remembered the cows. How he had ripped them into shreds and devoured them like an animal. How everything was his fault. Kyle's brother, Craig's father, the town...all because of him. "No." He whispered, staring hard at the exposed tendons in his arms. For the first time since his reanimation, he wished he were dead. He wished whatever strange force that had brought him back had left him in the ground. He felt defeated. "No."

"No what?" Craig asked, concerned. "Tweek?"

"No!" He shrieked.

_ pain, pain, being lifted into the air, a blurry face, hang in their kid, you're doing fine, Craig, Craig, pain, Craig is not food, Craig IS food, everything is food, pain, pain, hang in there kid, Tweek, alive, alive, crawling, crawling, the dirt underneath his fingertips, he couldn't breath, pain, pain, Craig, HELP. NO. He was so hungry. NO._

"Tweek calm down!"

"Let me out! Let me out!" He pounded on the glass and it shattered, digging into his palms. Tweek fell out the window an Craig stepped on the brakes.

He jumped out an ran around the other side. Tweek was curled into a ball, shaking. "I want to go home." He moaned, looking for all the world a scared child. "I want my mom."

"Tweek, we have to go." He shouted, attempting to haul him to his feet. The zombies slowly advanced without the loud noises of the car to deter them. Old Mrs. Pilgrim growled and held out her arms, her knitted shawl dark with blood. "Tweek!" He screamed as fingernails dug into his shoulders, pulling him away. "Run!"

He opened his eyes and gasped, lunging forward. He snarled from the back of his throat and slashed at her. She dropped to the ground as blood poured from her throat. "No!" He repeated. He snapped the arm off another one and felt the waves of betrayal wash over him. They moved like a singular being, focused only on the traitor that stood between them and their next meal.

Tweek lost himself as he fought, kicking, clawing, biting, swallowing mouthfuls of dead, bitter flesh as he slowly worked through the hoard. They were younger and less damaged but he had had practice holding down struggling meals. They were used to weak humans, not a fellow walker. Soon, they were no more. Craig watched in silence. His shoulders burned and his chest ached as he took in quick, shallow gulps of air.

"Tweek." He said.

The blond dropped to his knees and buried his face in his mutilated hands. "I didn't...want it to be like this..." He mourned. "I didn't."

* * *

"This...is going to suck." Clyde said finally.

"I'm am done, I am so fucking done." Token mumbled quietly.

"Stan." Kyle said soothing, hugging the taller boy to him. "Stan talk to me."

"I-"

"Well, this is awkward."

They swiveled around to face the newcomer. Damien sat perched in a tree, sipping contentedly from a can of Coke. "What are you doing here?" Kenny asked, confused. "You hate Earth."

He pouted and finished his beverage, crushing the can against his knee and tossing it over his shoulder. He dropped gracelessly onto the ground. "Yeah, well, I'm grounded here until I stop the end of the world." He said. "So let's get to it." He snapped his fingers.

_Pop._

"Yes, sir?"

"You!" Stan said in a strangled voice.

Pip stared at him blankly. "Me." He agreed. "Damien?'

"Pip, cancel my appointments for the day. I have to save the world or some shit."

"Yes, sir. Anything else."

He paused. "Prepare a reboot. Just in case."

"Yes, sir."

"And make it quick."

_Pop._

"What's a reboot?" Clyde asked.

"How are we not freaking out about talking to the sun of Satan?" Added Token. "Seriously, is it just me that's not used to this shit?"

"So, Marsh, where's that sister of yours?" Damien said pointedly.

"County jail." He said. "But I don't understand. Why do we need her? The zombies in town die like normal people."

Damien ran a hand through his hair. "Because Tweek isn't like those others. He's a first generation. He was brought back like magic. The others are sorta...it's kinda...like incest. Alright the first few times but then shit really starts going wrong after a few generations."

"Ew." Clyde wrinkled his nose.

"Yeah, well, that's how it goes. Now what are we waiting for? Like hell I'm staying up here any longer than I have to." He began to walk away.

"The car's that way."

He turned around. "Of course."

* * *

Shelly looked, to put it simply, like shit. Her skin was tinted yellow and her hair was scraggly. She looked up at them from beneath her heavy eyebrows and sneered. "Sup, turds."

"Lovely as ever." Kenny mumbled.

Damien lifted his hand and the lock clicked open. Her eyes widened and she sprang to her feet. He caught her by the arm as she attempted to flee. "Ah, ah, ah." He scolded.

"Let me go! There are fucking zombies out there! I'm getting the hell out of here!"

"I don't think so." Damien said. "We didn't bust you out for nothing."

She kicked out again and growled before deflating. "What do you want?"

He smiled.

"Here, Tweek, Tweek, Tweek! Here boy!" He whistled.

"He's not a dog!" Clyde hissed.

"Calm down, yeah, Clyde?" He said. "I know what I'm doing. Here boy! Yummy, yummy!"

Shelly screamed against her gag, held aloft by a glowing bubble of red energy. "This isn't working!" Kyle said. "Stan, two o'clock."

He fired a shot off into the chest of an ambitious zombie.

"Hi guys." They all jumped a foot in the air.

"Say that again?" Damien asked smugly.

Tweek rubbed his arms and looked away. "You don't need to be afraid of me." He told them.

"Tweek, are you-"

"I'm ready to go now." He interrupted. He clutched at his chest as if to keep it together. "I just wanna be able to rest." He whispered.

They slowly relaxed. "It's alright, Tweek." Clyde soothed.

"All you have to do is eat Stan's sister."

"What?" He squealed.

"Damien!"

"What?"

"You didn't have to put it like that!"

"How else should I say it?"

"I don't want to eat anyone!" Tweek cried.

"Listen, kid, here's the thing. No one just comes back. We can't tear them from eternity. You're here because you have unfinished business. Revenge. So just kill her and we can have you on your merry way."

"No!" He shouted. "Stan...she's your si-sister!"

"I know." He agreed. "And I hate it. But its her or the world."

"I don't want to hurt anyone anymore."

"This can't be right." Clyde piped up. "Tweek isn't like that. He doesn't want to do it. It can't be his reason."

"Well, it's the only thing we've got. So, dig in." Damien flattened his palms and dropped her onto the road.

"Nope, nope, nope." He chanted.

"Hurry up, before your guard dog gets here."

"Craig won't...hurt you." Tweek said. "He is good. He just wants to keep...me...safe."

"He's fucking insane." Kyle said. "Now please take a bite of this girl's heart so everything can go back to normal."

Tweek's stomach rumbled and he looked down at her. He wrinkled his nose. She flailed like a fish. He, like many others, did not hold Shelly near and dear to his heart. "She's gonna taste bad." He complained.

"Tweek, please eat my goddamn sister." Stan yelled.

"Careful. I hear skank goes straight to your hips." Kenny said, attempting to lighten the mood. Shelly roared dully with anger.

"We've got company." Kyle warned. Zombies. Dozens of them. All closing in.

Stan raised his gun and fired. Mr. Garrison went down. Again and again as they huddled close together. Damien disappeared in a puff of smoke. "That dick!" Kenny yelled. He punched Bebe in the face. "Stay down!"

"Don't just punch them, you idiot! You'll get bitten!" Kyle shouted.

Stan pulled the trigger and dropped the gun. "I'm out of bullets." He said.

"Everyone get the the car!" Token exclaimed, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Tweek watched them run. "Tweek, come on!" Clyde yelled.

He shook his head and looked down. Shelly had stopped moving and now simply laid on the floor, looking at him. He licked his lips. He remembered her. It was her fault. This entire thing was all her fault. He bared his teeth in a snarl and leaned in. "Now it's just you...and me." He said, removing her gag.

"You can't do this." She said, spit and blood dribbling down her chin. Her lips were torn and cut from her braces.

"I think I can. Quid pro quo. My life for your life." He inhaled. He was thinking more clearly than he had in days. Being able to form coherent sentences, use words with more than two or three syllables the change was almost frightening. "I don't want to do this. Really, I don't. You're going to taste awful. But I need you to understand I can't live like this. The world can't live like this. I just want to be able to sleep. Is that too much?"

She looked small and afraid. She didn't look like a murderer. She didn't look like the girl that would push him and all the underclassmen into the lockers. She looked human. She looked...exactly like he did.

Lost.

Confused.

Could he really do this?

He had to. He took a deep breath and pressed his teeth against her collarbone, savoring the feeling of a pulse. He took in his last moments of the world, noted the phantom feelings of the sun on his back, the snow at his knees and the wind in his hair. It was not what he would have wanted for his second death but he'd take it.

"Tweek." She said quietly.

"Hmm?" He would allow her her last words.

"I'm sorry."

His eyes widened as the world around him went to hell.


	9. The End

Dying fucking sucked.

He couldn't remember much from the last time he died but this time? It fucking sucked. He sort if hoped when he got up there (or down there seemed a but more likely but he was staying positive) there would be like a survey for him to take.

_Yeah, dying sucks. Please fix that. Maybe add a welcome wagon or something._

_Love, Tweek Tweak_

Instead of a welcome wagon, he was greeted with white floors and white walls. He sat himself down and looked himself over. He was human again but that was to be expected. He'd read the last Harry Potter. Death generally fixed shit that needed fixing. He wrapped his arms around himself and squirmed. He was a bit oversensitive after walking around with dead senses for a good two weeks. Every touch seemed like a cold hand on his skin, every breath stretched his skin and lungs to the brim.

"That should go away soon."

He looked up and blinked. "Mom?" He launched himself forward and buried his face in her neck, squeezing tightly. Her hair tickled his nose and he sniffed, feeling tears prickle the corners of his eyes. "Momma."

"God," she said simply. "Not Mom. But you can call me Mom if you'd like." He pulled away and flushed.

"I thought you-"

"Forsake you? Forgot you? Another F word, perhaps?" She-he-God tssked. "No. I was always watching over you."

"Then why did this happen?" he asked. "I never asked to be brought back. I never asked to become a monster." He burrowed back into his mother, holy deity or not. "I'm going to hell now, aren't I?" he murmured. "Because I hurt all those people."

She rubbed a tiny hand over his hair and down his back, squeezing his side gently.

Like his mother always did. "Poor Tweek," she murmured. "My poor, dear Tweek. I was there you know. I'm there every time, all at once, creating new people. It's hard to do, but I love it. I love you. I love how you are all the same, and all so different. A bit of your mother here, a bit of your father their, and their mothers and fathers and so on and so on. I picked your blond hair and made it as wild as your imagination, and gave you green eyes to match your favorite color, and a sharp, quick mind to think your way out of trouble. I molded you not in my image but who you were. Because I knew you before you knew yourself.

I am not a cruel God. Nor am I a great one. I cannot deny that I have made mistakes. And I regret them. But you, Tweek Tweak, you were not a mistake. No matter what, you did nothing wrong." She pulled away and kissed him gently on the forehead.

"So what's gonna happen to me?" He asked.

She smiled.

* * *

Tweek Tweak exploded. Kenny screamed in a very manly way, as bits and pieces of zombie flew everywhere.

"Jesus Christ, dude!" Kyle wailed. Shelly's screaming could be heard from inside the car.

"Are you all seeing what I'm seeing?" Token asked, pressing his face against the glass in a way that might be comical if the situations weren't so dire.

Zombies were collapsing, falling to their knees and spasming before growing still.

Shelly continued to scream. Damien tapped on the glass from his perch on top of the vehicle. "It's safe to come out now," he said. "Pussies."

They clambered out. "What happened to them?" Stan asked.

The antichrist shrugged. "Tweek finished what he needed to do. Now everything's back to normal."

"That's it?" Kyle asked, voice reaching a frightening pitch. "That's _it? _I'm _sorry?! _All this trouble over I'm fucking sorry!?"

"Seems like," he said, pulling something out of his pocket. He tossed it up and caught it gently with his fingertips.

"What's that?" Kenny asked, trying to examine it.

"This," Damien said, holding it out. "Is your saving grace. Craig Tucker's right behind you." Stan whirled around just as two long arms made to wrap around his neck. Craig snarled as he was pushed back.

"I'll kill you, Marsh!" he screamed as Token wrapped him in a tight bear hug. "I swear I will!"

"Calm down!" Clyde said, taking his face in his hands. "Craig, Craig! Craig, I need you to look at me." He did, with murderous intent in his eyes, but at least he fell silent. The shorter boy resisted the urge to squeeze his cheeks into a fish face and continued, "Tweek went on his own," he said seriously. "He didn't want to be here anymore. He stayed for you, Craig and he hated it. You have to leave him be."

"No," he moaned, letting his head drop. "No, he wouldn't do that. He promised he would stay with me. We promised."

"He stayed for as long as he could," he said mournfully. "But Tweek had to die, Craig. It was his time."

"And thanks to you," Kyle said bitterly, "half the town's dead."

"Not exactly, Jew-Boy," Damien said. "What part of 'saving grace' are you not quite getting?" he wriggled the button again, just to emphasize it. "This, my friend, is a reboot."

"What does it do?" Stan asked, eyeing it.

"Well, gee, it's a reboot button, I wonder? It turns everything back to normal, dipshit, what do you think it does? Everyone who died, the police, the water supply, it all goes back to normal." He noted their hungry expressions. "There's a catch though," he warned.

"Isn't there always?" Kenny mumbled.

Damien pointedly ignored him. "Show of hands, how many of you have seen _Donnie Darko_?" he snorted when no one made a move. "Losers. Anyway, here's the catch. Basically, this shit was meant to happen. It's destiny. And even if we reset it, it's just going to happen again. So, imagine time-slash-destiny as a long, long pipe. Sometimes it gets rusty and shit spills out, making the other pieces rust. You following?" he rolled his eyes. "Goddammit. Anyway, how do you fix a busted pipe? You replace the broken part. Tweek is the broken part so to fix it you need to-"

"Remove Tweek." Stan finished.

"Ding ding ding we have a winner!" he shouted, tossing an arm into the air.

"Remove Tweek?" Token asked around a mouthful of hair. "How would you do that?" Craig moaned again.

"Get rid of him. Wipe his slate and yours. Maybe replace him with some poor soul from purgatory to keep his parents happy."

"You can't do that!" Clyde shouted. "You can't just pretend that Tweek never existed!"

"Well, that's not your decision to make, Tubby. Tweek may be the rusty link but it there's another player in this." He turned to face Stan. "Your choice, man. Tweek's the effect but you're the cause, so it's your decision. Keep going or turn back?"

He stared at the button. Not red, like he expected all important buttons to be, but black. He swallowed hard.

He thought of all the pain, the damage, the lives lost.

And thought about how it was all his fault.

He reached out a hand.

"Wait."

He paused, pulled his arm back.

Kyle made an irritated noise.

Craig Tucker looked at them with sad, half lidded eyes. "Can you make it so I won't forget?" he asked. "I promise I'll behave. I just-I need him."

"Fine, fine, whatever." Damien waved him away. "Bleh, true love leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth."

"Do it, Stan." Kyle said, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked at his friends and their resigned faces. He bit his lip and slowly-

* * *

_Bring. Bring. Bring. Bring._

"Damn that test was killer." Clyde whined, stretching so his shirt rode up over his pleasingly plump tummy. Token smacked it jokingly and grinned.

"Nah, it's just cause you don't bother to study. What did you think, Craig?"

Their friend shrugged, not that they were surprised. Craig was usually very quiet and very sullen, acting as if there was always a great burden pressed upon his shoulders.

"First period down, eight more to go. Come on, guys, we can do this!" he chanted, tossing one arm over both of their shoulders. Craig blinked, a small sign of emotion but a fairly good one. He thought Clyde was being funny. "And then nine more periods and nine more periods and then senior year and bam! College and nothing but smooth sailing and hot women!"

"Pig." Token said, ducking away. "Let's just hurry up. I hear we have a new kid and I really want to catch a glimpse. We haven't had one since that Pip kid back in fourth, wasn't it?"

Clyde nodded slowly. Craig looked at his shoes. "Yeah, I think so," the former said. "Kinda weird, though. It's almost the middle of the year already. And who in their right minds would move to South Park? North Park's forty minutes away and waaaaay better. This town fucking sucks, dude. I feel sorry for the poor sap."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," came a very quiet voice. Craig stiffened, staring hard at his laces as his heart rate increased tenfold. He would not dare to hope. He would not. He would not. He would not.

He did.

He looked up.

The new kid, Clyde decided, looked nice enough, something to write home about if only for the novelty of a new student. . The new kid was short and very, very skinny, his green button down dipping low enough to display jutting collar bones as he tugged nervously at the hem. His jeans were oversized and well worn, a common sight in such a poor town, and his hair was messy and blond. His eyes though, were unlike any he had ever seen. They were huge for one, taking up a good deal of space, and a bright, exotic shade of green that seemed to shine and just _know._

Nothing special really.

So why was Craig looking at him so intently.

The blond blushed a pale pink against his white skin and held out a tiny hand. Craig stared at it and engulfed it with his larger one. Clyde nearly had a heart attack. Craig motherfucking Tucker was Craig motherfucking Tucker and Craig motherfucking Tucker never touched anyone. He barely tolerated Clyde and they had known each other since birth, basically.

Token thought this was fairly interesting and wondered if they were ever going to get to class.

"Craig Tucker," he said quietly, looking at him with a small glimmer of emotion not usually seen on Craig motherfucking Tucker.

"Tweek Tweak," he said. "My aunt and uncle own a coffee shop here."

"Do you like coffee?" he asked anxiously.

"Oh, yes, very much," he said plainly. "I like coffee and don't very much care for zombies." The two shared a secret, shy smile and began to walk, chatting amiably.

Clyde personally thought zombies were the shit but whatever.

Craig's life.

"So Craig and the new kid are getting on." Token said. "I don't think I've ever seen him this happy.'

"Yeah," Clyde said, feeling as if he was forgetting something very important. "Yeah, I guess."

**HAPPY ENDINGS. **

**I WAS SO CLOSE THIS CLOSE - TO JUST HAVING CRAIG GO CRAZY AND COMMITTING SUICIDE BUT I DECIDED NAH, HAPPY ENDING CAUSE I LOVE Y'ALL AND SHIT. WHATEVS. MIGHT POST ALTERNATE ENDING LATER.**

**OH WHAT THE HELL**

Craig Tucker as many knew, was a fairly sullen boy. He didn't say much, didn't do much and was most certainly never going to amount to much. Those who knew him before fourth grade him remembered him as fairly cynical but a good boy.

There was no rhyme or reason for his sudden attitude change.

His best and one of his only friends, Clyde, made sure to keep him as close as possible, pestering him for seats at his empty table and always sitting next to him on the rickety old bus home.

One day, he invited him and Token Black over to his house for a movie marathon. They started with _Anchorman _and worked their way down, each of them picking a movie. Craig picked _Spirited Away _and it was a true testament to their friend ship that they didn't tease him. Token picked _Ferris Bueller's Day Off _and managed a small smile out of his friend after repeating "Bueller...Bueller...Bueller..." in his best deadpan.

Clyde perused the movies before picking one out. "Alright, ladies, prepare to shit yourselves," he mocked, sitting back as the black and white movie slowly came to life.

"Aw, man, not this piece of shit." Token sighed.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's a classic."

Craig watched _Night of The Living Dead _quietly, with very large eyes. His breathing increased as the tale unfolded, until he was pressed against the furthest corner of the couch. He stood up as a zombie sank into a young woman and grabbed his sleeping bag.

"Craig?" Token asked.

"Where you going?" Clyde asked.

"Home."

"What?" he scrambled after his friend. "Wait! Don't leave! We can change the movie."

Craig looked over his shoulder. "It's not the movie," he said finally. Clyde stood in the doorway, wind nipping at his bare legs. His boxers did little to protect him and slowly, the taller and last boy pulled him away.

"It'll be fine," he soothed. "We'll catch him tomorrow."

"I can change the movie," he repeated, lost.

Token sat him down. "We'll catch him tomorrow."

But tomorrow never came.

It was plastered all over the news.

**_LOCAL BOY COMMITS SUICIDE, _**

**Inside look with the horrified campers that found his body.**

Clyde never thought of Craig putting a bullet in his brain with his mother's shotgun or why he had chosen to kill himself at a camping site that he had never been to, despite all the questions the police asked him.

Instead he thought of how this was all his fault and how he could have prevented it if he had just _changed the damned movie._

"It's too bad about Craig," Token said. "Fourth grade, man, something happened. I don't know what it was and it's stupid, but something in that damned year changed him. There was nothing we could do."

"Yeah," Clyde said, feeling as if he was forgetting something very important. "Yeah, I guess."


End file.
